


Flustered

by Kai_Smol_Trashlord



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Flustered, M/M, Mike is kinda shy, but also a ladies' man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 14:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5131391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kai_Smol_Trashlord/pseuds/Kai_Smol_Trashlord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael Munroe, notorious ladies' man, gets flustered very easily around his best friend</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flustered

(Y/N) - Your Name  
(L/N) - Last Name  
(E/C) - Eye Colour  
(H/C) - Hair Colour  
(H/L) - Hair Length  
(F/C) - Favourite Colour

-(^-^)-

Michael Munroe was a ladies' man. Whatever he wanted, there was never a lady who wouldn't get it or do it for him. He didn't like to call himself manipulative, because he really wasn't, he was just resourceful. He knew what he wanted an he knew how to get it; something only his close friends knew and distinguished about him. One friend in particular was you.  
You were particularly close to Mike. He considered you to be a good friend to him and you'd even tried to set him up with Emily and Jess a few times but… there was something that stopped him from looking at them as more than friends. He didn't understand what it was or why he was like that and it frustrated him because he liked to know what it was. He was used to knowing things and not knowing this was one of the most infuriating experiences of his life. And it wasn't like he could just tell you what was going on because he honestly didn't know himself. Well, he did, but he didn't understand it and he refused to believe it.  
"Hey, Mikey boy, what's cooking up in that empty head of yours?" you teased as you rapped your knuckles against his forehead with a grin. He blinked, coming back to reality, and pulled you into a headlock. He rubbed his knuckles rapidly against the top of your head and you struggled to break free from his vice-like grip.  
"Who has an empty head?" he asked, continuing his relentless torture. He blushed when your elbow brushed against his crotch and immediately let go.  
"Still you, bud," you smirked and stuck your tongue out at him before running away to go and talk to Matt by the locker room. Mike sighed as he watched you go, your (H/L) (H/C) hair billowing ever so slightly as you went. He'd always found it fascinating how your hair always looked so soft and healthy. There was a part of him that wanted to just run his fingers through the silken strands and that alarmed him somewhat. You were supposed to be best friends. Best friends didn't fondle each other's hair, especially not guy best friends. He wasn't sure where that rule/expectation came from but he'd always been told by his dad that men don't do that with each other.  
The way that you smiled around him and the way your (E/C) eyes seemed to glitter in the glorious summer sun as well as the way you laughed at his jokes and supported him when he needed it made him feel warm inside. The way you sang in the shower when you stayed over at his for horror movie marathons and the way you felt in his arms when you unwittingly jumped on him during the aforementioned horror marathon also contributed to the warmth as well as the nerves. He found it difficult not to stutter around you or get flustered when you were around but he refused to admit what this was. He didn't know for sure what it was and he was adamant that he wasn't going to accept it either. He wasn't gay. He was into men. He liked women. Boobs, boobs, boobs. He was NOT into guys, especially not his best friend who also happened to bee a guy.  
Mike was suddenly brought back to reality when he walked straight into a wall whilst watching you and Matt socialising. The shock of the impact made him fall onto his ass and drop his stuff everywhere. Great. Fucking perfect. Now you were going to think he was a fucking klutz. Not that he cared what you thought of him. Your opinion wasn't important in that way. He definitely didn't take note of what clothes of his you thought suited him the best or which colognes you liked the most. He didn't change his hair product to the newest one whenever you mentioned how cool it made hair look in the adverts. And he never changed his outfits whenever you said you didn't like what he was wearing.  
"Hey, bro, you ok?" you asked as you held a hand out to him. He took hold of it and the jolt of electricity through his body at the skin-on-skin contact was enough to make him let go almost immediately after. He jumped up on his own and dusted himself down before walking away as quickly as possible. He wasn't going to let himself get flustered in front of you after making a fool out of himself like that. He refused.

***

Mike was awoken abruptly by banging on the door. He noted when he looked at his digital alarm clock that it was around 3am then got up and put on a dressing gown. Whoever was pounding on his goddamn door could fuck off away until a reasonable hour. Maybe he should give them a pounding; see how they liked to be hit hard so early in the morning. It was a miracle his poor door was still on its hi-  
"M-Mike, move," you stammered and pushed past him. You slammed his door shut and locked it, taking him aback. Honestly, you were a complete mess. Your hair was out of place, your lip was cut with a bruise already forming around it, your left eye was swollen, blood trickled steadily from your nose, and Mike could have sworn that you were clutching your ribs as if they were broken. His natural instinct to protect you kicked in and he carefully lifted you. You protested profusely but he ignored you as he carried you up to the bathroom to clean you up.   
Taking a closer look, he noticed that your knuckles were bloody and bruised too. Clearly, you'd been in a fight. The big question was who the hell had attacked you in the first place?  
Sitting you down on the counter beside the sink, Mike retrieved the first aid kit from the overhead cabinet. He found a clean flannel and poured some alcohol onto it and used it to clean up your injuries. The way you hissed and whimpered in pain hurt him but he continued to try and clean you up. He needed to make sure that you were going to be ok and he needed to look after you. He even found some numbing cream and used it on your knuckles, lip and around your eye so that it would ease the pain. However, when he lifted your shirt his heart plummeted. The bottom two ribs on the left were black and purple with a clear imprint of a boot. Judging from the size, he deduced that it was the foot of another man and he instantly saw red. Some asshole had dared to lay a hand on his best friend and they'd beaten you to shit. Whoever it was, they were going to pay. But, for now, he needed to look after you and nurse you back to health before getting you to hospital.   
Mike dressed your wounds with some bandages then helped you up. You gripped his upper arm and he found himself blushing in spite of himself. He walked you to his room and assisted you in laying you down in a position that you would be comfortable in until he could find a way to get you to the hospital. He doubted that running here for however long you did would have done your ribs any good and he suspected that they were at least cracked or fractured.  
"Mikey? Hey…y-you know I love you, right?" you murmured to him. Mike froze up for a moment. Obviously, you must have meant that you loved him as a brother. Chris and Josh said it to each other all the time and they both had a brotherly relationship. Hell, they practically lived together at Josh's parents' house anyway.  
"Yeah. I love you too, bro," he replied with a smile. He ran his fingers through your hair comfortingly as he sat down on the edge of the mattress and blushed when you placed your hand on top of his. You sat up cautiously and sighed.  
"No, I mean… never mind," you mumbled as you moved his hand away from your head. He didn't want to believe that you meant what he thought you did but… at the same time he did. He wanted badly to believe that you cared about him in that way.  
"I-I… listen I um… uh…" he stammered, flustered. How was he supposed to admit that he even thought of you in that way, especially after your confession? He didn't think it would scare you off but he didn't want to make things awkward.  
"I get it. You're not gay. It was stupid of me to think I even had a-" you started but were cut off by Mikes lips pressing softly against yours. You both closed your eyes as you returned the kiss shyly. It wasn't anything lustful or deep like you'd witnessed whenever he'd made out with girls in the school halls. It was like he was nervous and trying to figure you out. It was sweet and gentle and short. You were disappointed when he pulled away.  
"I may not be gay, but I still care about you as much more than a friend. I think… I think I love you, (Y/N)," he told you. You grinned as you kissed him again.  
The hospital could wait. With Mike, you had all the time in the world.


End file.
